


Arachnophobia

by Blank_Ideas



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, How Do I Tag, M/M, Spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blank_Ideas/pseuds/Blank_Ideas
Summary: Elias is scared of spiders and Peter is little hope, a small issue occurs and Elias must deal with it himself- not that he wants too.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Arachnophobia

He can hear Peter’s laughter on the other end of the line and he can more than picture his husband’s broad chest rumbling with something deep, boisterous and unfathomable to many. The sound unfurls down the receiver and listening to it Elias becomes abstractly aware of the redness now flooding his cheeks and the hot coil of embarrassment tightens around his ribcage. But Elias was already more than conscious of his own ridiculousness.

Though that did not mean he wanted to be laughed at.

“Peter this is not funny.” Elias mutters resolutely, his tone far too grim for a man stood atop the pale white chairs supposedly purposed in the kitchen to be used with the table for meal times, not for fear avatars to use as high ground against private and public menaces. His hand wavers with the rolled up magazine still clutched tightly within his grasp, “Stop laughing, I am serious… alright I think it’s gone underneath the radiator.”

There’s a nerve gratingly delighted chuckle in response and Elias quickly comes to terms with the fact he will be receiving no assistance in the crusade against this great, horrific evil.

“What time will you be home?” He now pushes through his teeth, the corner of his eye twitching as he crouches down upon his vantage point and fishes against the laminate floor for his slippers, sent sliding in the hurry for escape.

Peter leaves a long, baited pause filled with hemming and hawing that ticked every box on Elias’s irritation list before answering finally with such an airy nonchalance Elias swore he was being difficult on purpose, “Mm, I’m not sure. I’m actually having a rather nice time in the wine section.”

“Well that’s inconvenient.”

“Inconvenient?”

“Yes, inconvenient.” Elias hisses because by now he is sure of Peter’s determination to be a nuisance and also because he’s stretched to his furthest, without descending to the now more then probably infested floor, and still he could not reach the downy fuzz about his slipper’s sole.

“Oh and why would that be?”

“Because I need you to- want you to come handle this situation. I refuse to do it and it’s impeding my progress on making our dinner.”

“Situation? You mean the spider?”

“Yes I mean the damn spider!” Elias stands up again because moving upwards is the only thing keeping him from hurling his phone downwards, “Peter if you don’t come handle it then I can’t finish cooking and if I can’t do that then I shall be very frustrated upon your return. Perhaps enough so to invite company over at a time undisclosed to you.”

He can practically hear Peter grit his teeth upon the end of the phone line but he realises far too quickly now that this has become a battle of wills.

“I’m already full.”

There is a rage boiling with the heat of a thousand suns bubbling at the core of Elias Bouchard, hot and smelting and rising as does his tone as he groans his through and complete hatred down the receiver of his phone, drawing Peter’s name out of his throat with enough venom to poison via sound. There’s a sharp click and half of his exclamation is cut off. The short male stands there, staring at the blinking and now dimming screen of his phone, brows raised in an expression of disbelief at Peter’s complete lack of courtesy- but what more can you expect from a lonely avatar?

Not so sure of his next course of action now Elias sighs into the resounding quiet if only to fill it as he deliberated his strategy. So far the chair had worked wonderfully.

The magazine not so much.

Quietly he places it down, smoothing the now creased surface as his eyes roamed the surface of tabloid headlines and gossip quotes, pictures of the well dressed and lavish, people who Elias had made into a rather guilty pleasure of following with nosey curiosity bordering on religious. Ibiza seems such a nice place to be this time of the year, a summer in the sun fermenting in fruity cocktails rather than shivering on his expensive chairs and avoiding one of the few things he’d so egregiously feared regardless of all this time.

He was a grown man, older than he looked thankfully but older all the same. Yet here he was, scared of spiders.

Bugs, insects, less so the things they represent but more so their appearance, all slime and too many legs, fuzzy and scaly and irritating to deal with, skittering around with a pace he couldn’t keep up with and all to easily armed with weapons of an early death, though not to say there were any venomous spiders native to britain. He knew there wasn’t but all the same, Elias Bouchard held a great disgust for bugs and critters and arachnids of all kinds. Ugly things.

Which is ridiculous because as a fear avatar what did he truly worship if not fear itself? To feed the rival of his kind felt like a blaspheme and Peter had joked about it more than enough times with spider gunk still pasted to the base of his boot, Elias was more then aware of that but nothing had ever quite resolved the flipping of his stomach whenever he saw something unwitting and stupid yet all the same disturbing crawl across his line of sight. A small part of him is smug about that but Elias doesn’t have the time to waste on smug little voices long wasted into memory.

No. Elias doesn’t have the time for it at all. He has a spider to deal with.

He descended the chair, bare feet padding upon the linoleum floor as he reached again for his slipper and finally had success in securing it. With both now on he stands more comfortably, hands about his hips as his gaze swept across the kitchen for any sight of the grizzly intruder, there was none but this didn't halt him from narrowing his eyes- suspicious at the reasonable stillness.

Silent is the house as it waits patiently through his steady, slow pacing across to the kitchen counter, there remained the cutting board and salad leaves he had been cutting up for dinner, it was also where he had initially sighted it, from there it had been a sprinted scramble atop the closest non spider touched surface and a call on the phone from his pocket to Peter, mercilessly staring at the arachnid as Peter did very little to reassure him. He’d told Peter about, the large brown thing with many legs currently subsisting amongst their vegetables and in response Peter simply hummed good riddance and insistently continued to peruse what was either the wine or liquor aisle, Elias didn’t know exactly he’d been too busy hyperventilating to see properly. Now he took a hold of the cutting board and strode with confidence across to the bins, dumping the whole thing (lettuce, tomato, wooden board and all) into the black bin bag, grimacing as he wiped his hands together as if that would clear away the nonexistent spider germs.

With that out of the way he could turn his focus to locating the spider and hopefully drawing out a brief death with minimal crying on his part. 

Elias rolls up the oversized sleeves of Peter’s sweater that he’d rather be caught dead in, and he grasps a hold of the tabloid again, rolling it into a tube and gripping it with the sort of strength that could choke a man to death given the chance. Prepared at last he approaches the radiator and with his hands raised, magazine of mass destruction ready to strike, he peers about the edge of the radiator, the view of the large brown spider pervading him still.

“Where is it?” He mutters beneath his breath, a sigh of relief escaping from his frowning mouth with his eyes only just catching the lanky limbed skitter of that same spider, crawling rapidly just by his feet.

Elias is thankful he is wearing slippers as he is not particularly proud of the shriek that erupted from his mouth nor the way he jumped from his skin and stamped repeatedly in the creature’s general vicinity. There’s a sickly squelch and Elias can feel the tears streaming down his face, the discomfort of his stomach adamantly performing in olympic gymnastics bringing bile to his throat. 

He doesn’t dare look at the base of his shoe as he brings the phone back up to his ear, dial tone ringing.

Peter picks up, “Did you find it?”

“I found it.” Elias breaths slowly, trying to sound as though he hadn’t been crying.

“Oh good, I can come home then,” He sounds cheerful, the bastard, relishing the distress that had still peaked within Elias’s voice. But there is a pause, a quiet one filled with thoughtfulness and unsaid concern, before he puts the phone down again and actually makes the half hour effort back to their mostly shared flat, “I’ll get that chocolate you like- the wine too.”

The receiver goes flat again and Elias can physically feel his shoulders slump, muttering his own small and quiet phrase with it’s own unsaid feelings that Peter would never truly be privy to listen too.

“Come back soon.”


End file.
